


Can’t hold back anymore

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [55]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Confession, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Sex, F/M, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, JBWeek2020, Lust, Quickies, Smut, and more - Freeform, but more than that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26815774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Back home from a party, roomies and friends, Jaime and Brienne realize they can't keep their hands off each other anymore (and their feelings buried inside)
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [55]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 22
Kudos: 98
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Week 2020





	Can’t hold back anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Some smut for "lust", the day7 prompt.

The party ended on a high, _fun_ being an understatement to describe it especially given that it has awakened in him a raging something that’s been simmering inside him for days.

“That was one hell of a night, wasn’t it?” Brienne giggles as they stagger indoors as soon as he unlocks the door. 

Jaime taps the light switch on, and she stumbles into him, as sexy as she was out there. “Careful,” he warns, supporting her with an arm around her waist. His voice is all husky, and he’s worried his resolve isn’t going to last long if she keeps looking at him like this.

“I had a wonderful time.” Still half-leaning against him, she looks up like she’s found something in him she’s never noted before. “Drinking and dancing—” she trails away in a slur, then slumping into his heaving chest, she adds in a husky voice “—with you.” The _‘you’_ has an edge of possessiveness that sends down a bolt of _something_ to his groin. He can almost taste the whiskey in her voice. Getting drunk and letting your hair down is so easy. No barriers, no inhibitions. The stiffness is gone and with it, every other thing that stands between them being themselves.

Dancing is easy, too. And liberating, in a way.

Except, close dancing with the woman he lives with, his bestie, the one he has the hots for, makes it all the more difficult for him to be himself. And what he’s been enduring for a while is beginning to get more _prominent_ as soon as they’re back to the privacy of their apartment.

“Yeah, it was fun,” he croaks a reply as soon as his tongue unfreezes. His heart is pounding. And so is his erection, with each passing minute, the fucking thing making life difficult for him. He tries to get her out of his head, but her body gyrating against his, her hands all over him, her intense eyes on him—

He takes a gulpful of air, hoping that’ll straighten things in his head. What the hell is he going on about? This is Brienne, his wench, and he isn’t supposed to— He’s drunk, things will be different when they’re sober, when he’s cleared his way out of this cloud of—

“I love you, Jaime,” she whispers, her fingers lovingly caressing the buttons on his chest just when he thinks he’s steered his mind off her.

For a moment, it feels like the ground has slipped away from beneath his feet.

“What?” He knows he’s heard her right. What he wants to ascertain is that this is _her_ and not the booze in her blood. But then, is it something he can wait for until the spell wears off?

“I—” her whole expression changes, like she’s suddenly gone sober “—nothing—” She wriggles away from him, meaning to escape, but he pulls her back.

"What did you just say, Brienne?” he asks again, hoping it isn’t a drunken mistake, a slip of her tongue when she actually means Renly.

She meets his eyes, and that’s when Jaime decides to risk it, consequences be damned. He wraps his arms around her, lips finding hers. He holds still, waiting, giving her time to stop this, but when she softly sighs into his mouth, when she sucks on his tongue, everything but lust and his feelings for her comes crumbling down in a heap.

They kiss harder, fiercer, and he leads her backwards until she hits the wall. His hand finds hers, pulling them up over her head, he pins her against the wall, his fingers threaded in hers. He continues kissing her, his lips strolling away from her mouth to her neck while his free hand seizes her breast, squeezes her nipple through her shirt and bra. “Jaime,” she sighs, and a moan follows. He can feel the vibrations of her voice steaming down to every nerve in him. He presses his lips to her neck again, loving the little shudder that runs through her body. 

This is her, he knows, but this is also the effect of the evening, her inebriated state. He lets go of her hands and backs off. “Brienne—”

“Yes,” she answers him before he can ask, grabbing his shirt and tugging the buttons open. “Yes,” she goes again, twirling her fingertips into his chest hair. Her fingers caress the golden trail down his front, her eyes blazing, inviting. “ _Yes._ ” This time it’s needier, her roving touch giving him a taste of her urgency when she drifts further down and gropes him.

_Fuck the demons we might have to face in the morning. Fuck everything but this night._

_Fuck everything but us._

Unbuttoning her shirt, he pulls her tits out of her bra. She lets out a hungry gasp when his mouth closes on her nipple, the hard angry bud, taut, demanding his attention. A deep-throated cry sexier than anything he’s heard gushes down his ears when he takes it between his teeth. _Fuck_ and _hells_ and _yes,_ her speech shrinks away to when he licks and bites until he leaves her a shaking bundle of hoarse whispers in his arms. One nipple to the other, left and right and back again, he keeps moving, sucking on her tits, nibbling lightly, curling his tongue around them, wrapping them in a hot wet blanket and slurping away like he’s never tasted a woman before. He realizes he, too, is at her mercy when she avenges what he’s doing to her breasts, stroking and massaging him over his pants. 

He can feel himself swell further under her touch, and if she keeps going like this, he’s going to— 

He’s going to— 

Jerking away, he reaches down and pulls down her skirt. His busy hand still keeping up the assault on her breast, he slips the other into her panties, fingers moving down until—

_Gods, she’s so fucking wet!_

“Wench—”

She doesn’t let him finish. The flames rising in her eyes, she drags his soaked fingers up to her mouth and begins licking her wetness off his fingers.

And this is too much for him. Just too much. If she’s teasing him, she’s on her way to conquer, but he’s going to pay her pack for it. If she’s baiting him, he’s fallen into the trap, and he’ll do whatever it takes to bring this to a tumultuous close. She makes a meal of his fingers, her arousal, the feral glint in her eyes, something he hasn’t seen before. She lets her hand trail along the nape of his neck. She scrapes through his hair, and he cannot contain the growl that slips through his teeth, the desperate cry of her name that escapes him. He has to taste her, devour her. He wants this to last beyond just a frantic fuck.

A man possessed, drawn into the moment, he falls to his knees, tugging the lace panties off her body, letting it drop to the floor. Ripped into two, it’s a mess. And he’ll be, too, if he does nothing to quell this agony. He can smell her need for him, the sweet muskiness of it driving him wild with lust. He wraps his arms around her hips, and spreading her legs he dives in for the kill. She falls back against the wall for support, her hand clamped on his shoulder and telling him to get on, to knock her senseless. She wriggles, her helpless whimpers telling him this is torture, nothing short of agony, and he pins her back in place. Her hands are all over—gripping his shoulders, ravaging his hair. He wants more, wants those perfectly shaped fingernails to dig into him while his lips find her clit and slit. When his tongue slides into her, he gets his wish. Marks, red and sore, he knows he’s going to uncover later.

He fucks her with his tongue, her hips buck and thrust into him. And he goes faster.

Moans, his and hers, resonate across the room. Her _yes_ to match his _fuck._ Her _Jaime_ to match his _Brienne._ Pitch for pitch. Desperation for desperation.

His tongue plays with her clit, and coating a finger with a swirl full of her, he gently presses it into her ass.

Those sighs drive him crazy. Those shivers he’s the cause for. The burning mess she is, she’s his.

He times the expert twirls of his tongue with his finger thrusting, teasing her, hoisting her to a climax he knows she’s going to explode from. She moves her hand deeper into his hair and he punishes her with a gentle bite, a squeeze of her thighs. He tugs and prods her clit, letting the pressure mount so high that she cries out in pleasure and pain.

She loses her balance when his tongue delves in deeper, but he’s there, holding her in place, holding her so she cannot escape what he’s meting out to her.

Her breath speeds up, he can feel her orgasm beginning to tighten within her. Pulling his fingers out of her, he laps up what he’s begun with one long swirl and stands up. 

Brienne’s eyes meet his—they speak only one language, demand only one thing.

His hands are all over her body, rough, wandering, pinching and groping and he spins her around. He unzips his pants, but the zipper takes a while. With a grunt of frustration he tries again, his impatience nearly strangling him, and when he’s finally successful, he lets them fall to the ground, his underwear the next to leave. He presses his hard cock against her, making her feel how hard he is. He needs her to know it, what she makes him go through every time she unleashes those large eyes on him. Grabbing her hips, he pushes on her back, bending her at the waist. Bracing herself against the wall, she breathes heavily, waiting for him to take her.

“Brienne—”

“I want this,” she says, answering him again before he can ask her.

Her body is more than ready— he can feel her throbbing when he teases her slick entrance with his twitching tip. She’s dripping, coating him with her burning desire, and when he can no longer sustain, he slides in.

Bit by fucking bit, he takes her, he fills her, he feels her engulfing him in a fiery embrace.

He holds himself, savoring the contractions, the growing pleasurable sensation of her body accepting him. He pulls out, then draws in again, his thumb pressing her ass, fingers squeezing. He begins to thrust. Moving his thumb in time with his hips, he pushes in and out of her. 

Slowly. _Yes, slowly,_ but that’s only at first, only until she puts forth her demand in hoarse words.

 _Gods, yes, faster!_ And harder. Like a pair of fucking animals.

He moves, and she moves with him. Together they ramp it up, racing away quickly into a rhythm. She rubs her clit while he is thrusting, so deep and hard, in and out of her. His cock buried, completely submerged in her essence, this is hotter than his hottest dreams. 

Sparks fly. Flames begin to rise higher, spreading so fast… so uncontrollably.

She whimpers, and back again are the _fucks_ and _ohs_ and the sexy chants of his name.

He grunts her name, grabbing her hips and ramming into her. He grabs a handful of her hair, pulling her toward him by the neck. She curls her spine, stretches, arches into him. Fuck, sex has never been like this before! But then, he’s never been with anyone like this before.

She is so close. 

_Yes!_

She’s pressing down on his cock—hard and ruthless. Every inch of her flesh around him tells him, screams of how badly she wants this. So does her pussy as it rigidly clamps on him. He can feel her grow dramatically wetter. It’s like her body’s been liberated from some sort of constraint, a cage she’s been confining herself to all along.

She rocks back and forth on him, riding out her orgasm, squeezing him, shaking uncontrollably when she comes undone around him.

He goes on, pumping, pounding her as if this is their last time together. What if the clock strikes midnight and the world reverts to where it was before this magical moment began? What if—

He can sense his temperature spiking, his head is spinning in near delirium, barely cognisant of anything but _this_. 

“Oh, yes,” he grunts, eyes half closed. 

He’s beginning to lose control, his hips are starting to buck erratically, his balls are aching with the unbearable need to break free. He grips her hips so tightly, nails sinking, dragging down her flesh. He’s fucking her like he’s never fucked anyone. The evening was his friend, Brienne by his side, swaying in his arms, but this—this feels like—like the perfect end to what they'd begun with an innocent dance. 

It's like there’s something new in store from this moment on...

Like they’ve always been more than that... 

Like they were meant to explode like this someday...

He keeps going, thrusting into her with nearly violent force. Just another moment, he tries to hold back, then another, wanting to prolong, to— 

But he can only extend this for so long—his balls begin to crumble under the pressure, the feeling of her tight, wet, hot cunt gripping his cock is starting to get to him. 

He drives in again, swelling within her, pushing and stretching, burying himself balls deep. As she whispers his name one more time, he pulls out of her. The tension explodes, tearing him apart, and gripping her hips, he lets go, bathing her ass, her thighs in his climax.

This— _she_ feels amazing. What she’s just given him.

Bodies shivering, legs weak and sticky, they hold each other until their feet can hold them steady. Seconds pass, reality begins to trickle in, then she turns to him, and cradling his face in her hands, she kisses him, long and deep.

“I love you too, Brienne,” Jaime murmurs, gazing deeply into those gorgeous eyes when they pull apart for air.

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote in a hurry, so I'm quite anxious how it turned out.


End file.
